The following is a piece of fan fiction based on Biker Mice From Mars. All characters were created by Rick Ungar, original story by Tom Tataranowicz, and are not my property.
This is an AU retelling of BMFM and explores mature subject matter including death, violence, abuse, sex (con and noncon), torture, and mutilation. Reader's discretion is advised. Some character history has been altered from their original source but like I said, this is an AU.
Chapter 6-
Charley spent the rest of the afternoon in the garage. Modo was kind enough to make runs to the scrap yard for her, but when it was clear that he was just guessing at the parts she needed, she began to make the trips on her own.
She did not stop for breaks, or meals. She feared that the moment she gave herself time to rest, her mind would wander back to those dark places she was desperate to avoid. Work kept her mind occupied and her body tired.
Charley had only five more bikes to work on when she heard a rumbling in the distance. She paused to look out onto the Martian terrain so see a dust cloud making its way towards the volcano. She was quickly joined by Throttle and Stoker who stared at the same cloud. Squinting, Charley could make out a handful of the same bikes Stoker's freedom fighters rode, as well as an all-terrain vehicle which she had never seen before.
"Carbine's stopping by for a visit?" Stoker asked Throttle.
"She's up to something. There's three bikes and a dune buggy," Throttle replied.
"Five bikes," Charley corrected. "Possibly seven."
The two mice gave her a surprised glance. "You can see that far?"
Charley shrugged, "They are what? A mile and a half? Two miles away?"
"Mice can't see that far," Stoker said. "We're cave mice, so we never needed to see long distances." Charley nodded silently at the mouse's logic, and the three watched the riders as they slowly made their way towards the mountain base.
Eventually Charley was able to make out features of a large flag mounted to the back of the dune buggy: a dusty red colour with a silver silhouette of a mouse head. By then, the rest of the freedom fighters had made their way to the garage as well. Charley turned her head to see Vinnie against a wall, arms crossed and staring at the ground; Modo kept him company.
Everyone cleared the middle of the garage when the party arrived. More mice. In tan and yellow uniform. Everyone looked so regulated that Charley assumed them to be military of some sort. Their leader was a grey furred mouse with long black hair. She had a scar across her cheek and a stern look to her.
Whatever hardness the mouse showed outwardly disappeared as she went to embrace Throttle. So this was Carbine. The two Martians kissed and touched their antenna to one another. Charley stepped back as Throttle, Stoker and the new mouse spoke to one another. Some of the other uniformed mice began to mingle with the freedom fighters. Everything seemed amiable but Charley was not interested in interacting with anyone; neither was Vinnie from what she could assume.
After pleasantries were exchanged, Stoker gestured towards Charley and the grey mouse glanced over at her. Carbine had a resting bitch face, but Charley could forgive it; life is hard for women, on earth and mars, and you have to be hard to be taken seriously. By the time the three mice had made their way to Charley, she was able to muster up the strength she would need to meet this new Martian at her level.
"Nice to meet you Earthling," the mouse said as she outstretched her hand. "I'm Lieutenant Colonel Cannonblade of the Tharsis Land Battalion."
Charley took hold of her had, "Charlene Davidson."
"I know who you are, and I know you're working as a mechanic for Stoker's freedom fighters. What I don't know is how and why you got on this planet."
Carbine stared Charley down, and Charley stared right back. "Not voluntarily," she replied. Charley knew this wasn't a good enough answer for the mouse.
"I would prefer it if you told me your whole story and not give me vague answers," Carbine's voice was curt, but not entirely rude or demanding.
"I suppose there is no getting around this."
"Look at this from my perspective, our planet has been invaded and plundered by genocidal aliens for half a decade. We are on the cusp of victory and a new alien shows up and won't tell us what she is doing here. If you want us to help you, we need to know what happened to you."
When Charley did not respond right away, Carbine softened her look and her tone. "We can talk somewhere in private, just you, me and Stoker, but I am not leaving here without answers."
"Why Stoker?"
"This is my base," Stoker said. "I have the right to know who it is I have working as a freedom fighter."
Charley felt a lump growing in her throat. "Fine. Let's get this over with."
They spoke in Stoker's private meeting room. It was small but warm and will lit. There was a desk at one end. and a couch and two chairs arranged around of coffee table, that is if mice even drank coffee. The desk had a rather comfortable looking chair that seemed out of place compared to everything else at the base; across from the desk was a simple wood chair similar to the ones at the dining table. The walls were left baren.
Carbine had commandeered Stoker's desk and Charley sat across from her. Stoker was relegated to sitting on the couch with Throttle and a nameless mouse under Carbine's command whose only purpose was to take notes on the meeting. Charley did not feel like objecting to the additional witnesses to this interview.
"My name is Charlene Davidson, I am a citizen of the United States and I live in Chicago Illinois. On November 19th, 1993, I was in a car with a friend and his driver when we were abducted by aliens. We were unconscious during the abduction; I don't know how we ended up on Mars."
"Who was this friend you were with?" Carbine asked
"His name was… is Lawrence Limburger. He was a friend of my father. I've known him my whole life. His driver was Jeffrey McInnes, I don't know much about him personally."
"What's the first thing you remember from when you regained consciousness?"
"We were placed in cage, or a jail, something like that. We were in a laboratory, like and evil scientist laboratory from a movie or a nightmare."
Carbine handed some pictures to Charley. "Were these the aliens who took you?"
The pictures were of green fish-like aliens. They were rather menacing looking: bloated, big mouths with sharp teeth, spiney fins on their heads, gaudy attire. Charley shook her head as she flipped through them but paused at the last two.
They were different from the others. They looked human, but wrong. One was a short spindly man with a hunch back. His skull was enlarged, his nose stretched and elongated disproportionately. Charley could still hear is wheezy falsetto laugh in her head. The Other, was a roided up brute with a protruding lower jaw; for some bizarre reason he seemed to secret a black inky substance that had the consistency of motor oil.
"I remember these two."
Stoker had gotten up from his seat and leaned over Charley to look at the pictures. "Greasepit and Dr. Karbunkle."
Charley placed the two pictures on the table. She kept her finger on the picture of Karbunkle, "This one told us they wanted Lawrence; that I just got snagged in their net as an added bonus."
"Did he say what they wanted with you?" Carbine asked.
The color left Charley's face as she stared blankly at the picture of her captors. She was quite for a moment. Her body tensed up. She scratched her fingers along the desk as she returned her hand to her lap. She gripped her thighs and squeezed. "He said they were going to skin us. He said they needed human suits. But they needed to fatten us up first to make our skin more elastic… for good stretch."
The room was silent with the exception of the scratching of Carbine's scribe taking notes. Charley's eyes began to well up with tears. No matter how hard she blinked, the tears would not stop flowing.
"Lawrence said we'd starve ourselves first, so Karbunkle was going to force feed us. When big buy, Greasepit, opened our cell with a feeding tube, Lawrence tackled him. The guy was so fucking greasy that he slid all the way across the laboratory. When he got up, he accidentally hit the power button on some kind of weapon. It blasted a hole in the wall leading outside."
"Yeah, that sounds like something Greasepit would do," Throttle said in a dry witty tone.
"Lawrence went after Greasepit again, Karbunkle ran off somewhere, I didn't see. Then Lawrence told me to run. He said he would be right behind me. "So I did. And I haven't seen him since."
Carbine put her hand in the breast pocket of her vest and pulled out a square piece of fabric. It was a plain light grey colour, and lacked any ornate designs, but it was soft and clearly made of high-quality fabric. Carbine handed the square to Charley, who used it to dry her eyes.
Charley placed the cloth on the desk between the two of them and then tightly hugged herself. "I came across Slobber's men. They promised me food and water. They said they would protect me." She bit her lower lip. "I don't want to talk about what they did to me."
The room was quite again, and Charley could feel the tension radiating from the mice behind her. She could see it in Carbine's eyes as well. Some things don't need to be said. After a while, Carbine showed Charley a picture of a large metal apparatus, "Do you remember seeing this when you were held captive?"
"Yeah, but it wasn't completely built. Why does this matter?"
"I'm just establishing a timeline for how long you've been here. It is a Tug-Transporter that Stoker's Freedom Fighters destroyed fived months ago, if it was still in the process of being assembled, we know for certain that you've been here longer than that. We can't give an exact date."
Carbine placed both her hands on the edge of the desk. She looked across to Charley, two women of different species, both with an understanding of how cruel life can be. Her voice conveyed sincerity when she spoke to the earthling again, "Charley, I thank you for your cooperation in this matter; and I am truly sorry that these are the circumstances under which we've met. I can take this information and have it corroborated with existing intel from that time to confirm your story. In the interim, you are going to remain under Stoker's protective custody. If there is anything you need while I am here, please let me know."
"Is there anyway you can get me off this planet?" As soon as Charley asked the question aloud, she knew what the answer was going to be. Her heart sunk as she allowed a wave of defeat crash into her entire body.
"Even if we had the ability for space travel, all of our resources are needed for rebuilding our home. We can't afford to send you back to Earth."